


Peach Schnapps, Tattoos, and Bartenders

by CaptainPassion



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender - Freeform, F/M, Feelings, Lemon, Smut, Why am i still writing tags?, au smut, peach schnapps, smut week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:39:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4011358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainPassion/pseuds/CaptainPassion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU/NO WALKERS. Bethyl Smut Week 5/1-5/7. SMUT. Beth Greene just needed to feel. She wanted to remember what it was like. After months of not doing anything but ache, she finds herself in a no-name bar in the middle of no-name Georgia and to her surprise peach schnapps, tattoos, and bartenders are just what the doctor order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peach Schnapps, Tattoos, and Bartenders

**Author's Note:**

> HaPpY BeThYl SmUt WeEk! :)<3  
> I know I'm early but I will be starting my internship on the first so I decided I would write my little participation one-shot now. I have written two stories for Beth and Daryl, but I really hope that you like this! It's just a one-shot smut AU, but those are two of my personal favorite things! enjoy!

[ ](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/jessiborton/media/bethyl%20smut%20collage_Fotor_zpsfrcsuvdt.jpg.html)

She took in a deep, shaky breath as her small hands clutched the steering wheel. She watched as her knuckles turned from red to white with the flexing of her muscles, the rain that pounded down against the car’s window giving her a beat to adhere to.

She’d never been here before… Hell, she didn’t even know where she was and to be truthful- she’d just gotten in her car and driven south, her path ending at a small gravel parking lot of some bar with no name to mention; an illumined Budweiser sign that hung in the window was the only indication it was even open.

Beth peered through the rain towards the small structure in front of her and clenched her jaw. She didn’t know why she had turned here, she wasn’t even twenty-one yet, but here she was and she couldn’t go back home. Not that she was sure she even knew where home was at this point.

She squeezed the steering wheel again, making the leather groan beneath her grip and the practically fresh scar burn deep on her wrist. She’d felt numb for weeks- no, scratch that, _months_ now and tonight it had come to an apex when she sat down at the dinner table with her father and her sister.

Maggie watched her like she had been since “the incident,” and apparently watching Beth shove her food around on the plate rather than into her mouth had pushed her older sister to the brink. Maggie dropped her fork on her plate with a loud clatter and glared at Beth, yelling something about her being selfish and immature while Hershel tried to wrangle her in, which just ended with him leaning his face into his palms shaking his head while his oldest bared down on his baby.

And maybe her sister was right. Maybe Beth was being selfish. Maybe she was being immature and she was being and doing _every last thing_ Maggie had accused her of, but as Maggie stood there yelling in Beth’s face the only thing she could do was blink at her and that’s when she knew she had to leave.

For herself.

For her family.

Or what was left of it anyways.

Shaking her head slightly, Beth reached down and turned the key back, slid them out of the ignition and tossed them in the cup holder before quickly getting out of the car and running through the rain, towards the entrance of the bar. When she pulled the door open the room wasn’t much brighter than outside but the air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and cigarette smoke.

She glanced around the bar and found herself completely alone. She wanted to laugh bitterly at that because of course she would pick the only bar this side of the county line that was empty, but she walked to the bar anyways and slid onto the cracked brown leather stool, the jeans she had on wet from the rain skidded against the smoothness of the chair. Beth pushed the now-wet hair that was clinging to her face back and sighed. She looked around the bar and then up to the liquor-lined wall in front of her, reading the names and examining the bottles. She’d never really had a drink before. After hearing the stories from her father about the demons it sparks in peoples’ blood she’d never had the desire.

But that was then. Now she just wanted to feel something even close to desire. Hell- she’d even take pain at this point because the dull ache of numbness was overbearing.

Beth glanced around the bar then back to the bottles in front of her and swallowed. She slid off of the stool and made her way silently behind the bar. She trailed her fingers across the glasses that were lined up neatly to her left, her eyes flying over the selection of drinks to her right. She didn’t know how to make anything fancy but she knew that tequila wouldn’t be the wisest choice and her daddy had an affinity to vodka so she steered clear of that. She scowled as she continued her search, her eyes finally coming to rest on a small, clear bottle with an orange label.

_Peach Schnapps._

She picked it up softly and ran her thumb across the label. She liked peaches. Almost shrugging to herself she walked to the bar and sat the bottle down, narrowing her eyes at it like she was about to interrogate it. Which was ridiculous. It was her choice to take the drink, and damn if backs out now. She straightened and reached for one of the glasses that she’d been running her fingers across and sat it down, grabbing the bottle of alcohol and unscrewing the lid, not willing to think on it anymore. Beth poured the clear liquor into the glass and screwed the lid back on, tight. She sat the bottle down beside it again and grabbed the glass, pursing her lips before raising it to her lips.

There was a slight rattle behind her and she nearly dropped her glass when she turned around and found a tall, dark haired man standing at in the doorway, a crate of beer in his hands, his face decidedly impassive. Neither of them said anything for a loaded moment, both just looking at each other. But the spell was broken when his ice-blue eyes scanned down the length of her, sending a warm flash down her middle. He took a few steps forward, setting the case of beer on the bar top. Beth took a step back and sat the glass down quickly, “I- uh- Sorry-“ He didn’t say anything as she backed away, and out from behind the bar, “No one was here and I know that this was _not_ okay, I just really needed a drink.”

She swallowed and glanced over to her Peach Schnapps and his gaze followed hers. His voice was gravely, “You drinking that?”

Beth felt her chest flush at the sound of his voice and nodded, “Well… Yeah. But I was gonna pay for it- I swear.”

“You ever drank that?” He asked.

She shook her head, “No- but-“

He moved towards her drink and took it as well as the bottle and tossed it back in its place and then she watched as he threw the contents of her glass down the sink. She had wanted to feel _something_ but she wasn’t sure that fear and embarrassment was what she was looking for. Before she could say anything he was grabbing another glass and picking up a frosted mason jar from a small freezer she hadn’t even noticed was there. The stuff was a tan, clear color and when he sat it down in front of a bar stool she furrowed her brow. He nodded his head towards her, “Apple Pie Moonshine.”

Her Daddy had told her that bad moonshine could make a man go blind. As if reading her mind he said, “’s fine. Legal.”

She looked at the drink, to him, then back to the drink before walking over the stool and sliding on, grabbing the cup and taking a tentative sip. She could tell he was watching her from the corner of his eyes as he pulled the beer from the case he’d brought in earlier into a clear-front fridge. She wrinkled her nose at the burn it left going down her throat but smiled as the sweet, warm feeling spread threw her limbs like fire.

“It’s good,” She said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She took another sip, this time bigger.

“Better be careful. Stuff’s strong.”

She swallowed and nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She understood why her daddy was afraid of the stuff- even if she’d only taken a few sips, it made her feel warm and loose and well… it made her _feel_.

She took another drink.

Soon she was two glasses in and dangerously close to finishing her third. He’d left the Mason jar there for her to pour herself. If she were to be honest, it wasn’t the best idea on either of their parts but it was clear it was closing time and the guy just wanted to get done and probably leave. Beth watched as the bartender worked silently. He looked strong- his shoulders stood out against his cut off sleeves and when he moved, his arms moved fluidly, his biceps bulging and releasing, so distracting she almost didn’t catch that she was staring. She saw a flash of something black on the inside of his right arm.

“What’s that?”

He kept working, not even glancing over at her as he replied, “What?”

Somewhere between the second drink and him leaving the bottle there they’d formed a silent camaraderie, her watching him while he just accepted that she was there. They hadn’t spoken much, but the liquor was thinning her blood and she was curious.

“On your arm.”

“What’s it look like?” He asked as he bent down to crush the last cardboard box he’d had. He finally looked over at her, his face _still_ impassive, and she shrugged. “That’s why I asked.”

“Tattoo.” He said back lowly.

“What of?” The question came out before she could think to filter it out, but she didn’t really care.

The bartender looked down at his arm from a second then turned towards the trashcan, stuffing the cardboard into it, and when he straightened out he said, “Demon.”

Beth nodded and looked down at his arm again, as if she could see through his body to the inside of his bicep where the tattoo was no longer showing. “Why a demon?”

He walked over to her and grabbed the bottle of moonshine, “You ask too many damn questions, _girl_.”

She felt a tug at her lips, a smile threatening to slide past, “My name is Beth.”

He didn’t reply to that right away and she pressed her lips in a line. Maybe it was myth, but she was told that bartenders were supposed to give advice or something. This one didn’t seem the least bit interested in talking. She watched as he put the moonshine back in the freezer and went to the sink and grabbed a washcloth, then walked to the end of the bar and began cleaning up.

“So, what should I call you? Bartender?”

He shrugged, “’s what I am.” A beat passed in silence before he replied, “Daryl.”

She smiled, “Daryl.”

He glanced up from his wiping and when his eyes met hers she wanted to sink in them. She was sure it wasn’t the moonshine, but something about him made her stomach want to curl in on itself. She watched his arms again and this time he did catch her staring. He cleared his throat as he got closer and she lifted up her cup so he could wipe the bar.

Normally, really, in any other circumstances, she would never have done it. She wouldn’t even think twice about it. But, thanks to the moonshine that tasted like apple pie and just the fact that she was actually feeling _anything_ she grabbed his forearm and stopped him. She saw the tattoo again and he was finally close enough for her to see, but when she touched him he stood as still as a statue, his muscles tense under her hand.

She was good and reading people- she really was- and she could tell that he wasn’t comfortable with her grabbing on to his arm, but she didn’t back away. The thick, hazy, warmness of the moonshine pulsed inside of her head making her lack of sense seem a little more sensible than it really was. Slowly, as if not to scare him, she sat down the glass on the part of the bar that he hadn’t wiped down yet, all while still holding him in the other. His eyes watched her hands every move. Beth glanced up at his face and gave him a small, reassuring smile before she tugged at his arm slightly. He resisted at first but then she breathed, “It’s okay.”

He let her pull his arm a bit and then she turned her head to see the tattoo that was etched into the inner bicep of his arm. The lines were thick, and almost amateur. The demon-ghost ran along the lines of his muscles. She swallowed at lifted her hand and traced a centimeter of the line before he pulled away.

“It’s closing time,” He said quickly. He was breathing a little hard, but he was trying to conceal it. He grabbed her glass and tossed it in the sink and she felt a little more than disappointed.

And maybe she was just too drunk or something because she had absolutely no right to be _disappointed_ in him pulling away from a complete stranger tracing patterns on his skin, but she was. She swallowed again, this time a wad of cotton stuck there in the base of her throat, and stood up. She had crossed a line, and she was going to try and fix it. Without saying a word she went behind the bar and walked to the sink, pushing on the hot water.

“What are you doin’?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, “Helpin.”

His heavy-footed steps came up behind her, and she’d known he was stepping hard on purpose. He’d snuck up on her just earlier so now he was trying to get her to back away.  “Stop.” He said.

She shook her head and reached for the sponge that was lying on the corner of the sink, “No.”

He was behind her, closer to her and in an instant his arm was reaching around her to turn off the faucet when his chest brushed her back, sending heat curling in her belly again. She reached and turned the faucet back on and she could have sworn he almost _growled_ at that, or maybe it was just a rumble in his chest. Either way she felt it in her core.

He first grabbed he sponge from her left hand then reached around in a flash to shut the water off again, and it ended up that she was practically cradled against his chest, the hard planes of him pressing fast into her backside. His hot breath graced across the skin of her neck and sent a shiver down her spine.

“I don’t need your help,” He said gravely from behind, his timbre rumbling against the shell of her ear.

And god, if she didn’t want to lean back against him, because his warmth and the vibrations that were coming off of him went straight to her lower belly and that _feeling_ … Oh god, she missed that feeling so much. Those sparks and that wet, hot heat that went scattered across her body, hitting every nerve ending and it was so far from fucking numb that she almost whimpered in want.

Her chest was moving at a rapid pace as they stood with him grappling at the wet sponge in one hand and his other arm pressed flush against hers against the faucet. The blood was seemed to almost be roaring in her ears as she licked her lips, “Why not?”

His long, dark hair brushed over her shoulder as he dipped his head, as if trying to gather himself. She wished she could see them right now- be a fly on the wall- because just feeling it had her keen, but seeing him and his arms and his chest…

“Be _th_ ,” His tone was a warning but it barely registered with her because when he said her name she was gone. She leaned back, pressed against his chest, her back flush to his front and he was strong and hard and fit all of her softness just right. He froze for a second but when she leaned her head back, against his shoulder, her neck exposed, he seemed to zone in.

“What are you doing, girl?” His breath was hot against her neck.

The scratch of his beard made her shiver deliciously against him as she smiled, “Just feelin’.”

He huffed out a breath at that and she flipped her hand around from the faucet to circle his wrist and dropped the sponge from the other, with a wet _plop_. She squeezed his wrist and then she dropped it and turned around. Her ass hit the sink, as she had to crane her neck to look up at him. The fringe of his dark hair hid his eyes and he was like a furnace, his skin practically radiating heat onto her and all she wanted to do was press herself against him and take it.

She looked from his head to his neck where his pulse was racing, down his shoulders and to that damned demon tattoo. She reached her hand out and curled her fingers around his arm, pressing her thumb against the tattoo again and smiled, “I like it.”

His lips twitched in the first smile she’d seen from him and her heart fluttered against her breastbone. “You’re kinda weird, girl.”

She shrugged, “Yeah. I kind of am.”

A beat. “Me too.”

It was her turn to smile then and then she squeezed his arm, watched the tattoo morph under her pressure, and then took a step forward putting even more limited space between them. Maybe she shouldn’t be doing this- hell, she didn’t even know where she was, but right then, in that moment, she couldn’t care less because it didn’t matter where she was- she was feeling it and god did it just feel _So. Damn. Good._

She looked up at him, tried to catch his eyes, “I like that, too.”

And then she was pushing up on her toes and praying to god that this was okay, and then, when her lips touched his and his mouth slotted against hers, everything in her brain stopped except for where he was touching her and even more so where he _wasn’t_ touching her and how that absolutely needed to be remedied. Fast.

Beth closed the gap between them, pulling at his arm with one hand and grabbing at the belt on his hip with the other and pulled them together so that her chest was against his and his hands found her waist. She sighed against his mouth and deepened the kiss, her tongue dancing across his bottom lip. He opened to her instantly and his tongue was in her mouth, pursuing dominance, and she let him have it because suddenly her senses were filled with all things Daryl and she didn’t want to take any chances of that changing.

Daryl pulled at her hips and turned them around to pin her against the bar and she gasped as he began pulling her up and lifting her to the cool countertops to sit facing him where he could be slotted between her legs. Beth wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him impossibly closer, her fingers wrapping in his hair and tugging so hard it maybe would have hurt, but he didn’t seem to notice, maybe it even encouraged him, because then he was pulling at the hem of her t-shirt, tugging down and threading his fingers through the fabric like an anchor. She arched into him and scooted herself as far off the counter as possible without breaking contact, and rocked her hips into him.

He moaned against her mouth and she smiled, tugging at his hair again because there was so much and yet not enough going on and all she wanted was for his mouth to be everywhere on her. Beth broke the kiss and moved one hand to cup his jaw as she kissed and nibbled along the other side and down his neck. She sucked on his pulse point and he groaned nuzzling into her, his hands digging into her hips.

“Oh, god Beth.” His voice was scratchy and she nodded into his the crook between his shoulder and his neck as if she was agreeing with him on some unspoken declaration. His hands uncurled from her shirt and then slid slowly around to her back and down to glide under the soft fabric of her tee, his callused hands burning against her smooth skin on the small of her back. She continued her assault of his neck and trailed up to his ear as he began rucking up her shirt.

She leaned back and helped him the rest of the way and before she could even fling it somewhere his hands where on her breasts, kneading and sending her straight to the edge. She breathed out a mixed sigh and moan and let her head fall forward. He leaned into her, his forehead matching her, his hot breath all over her. She swallowed and slid her hands down his chest, scratching through the fabric of his shirt as his hands slid around her back and unclasped her bra in a smooth, fast motion.

She smiled and slid the straps down, biting her lip as she flung the bra. She grappled for his shoulders and then he arched down and traced the curve of her breast with his tongue and the sound she made was one she’d never heard come from her mouth before. She squeezed at his shoulders, and dear lord, his mouth traveled north and clasped on to her rosy nipple and his teeth grazed her and she keened against him and shuddered.

 

He had barely scratched the surface and she was already reeling with him. Beth let her eyes flutter closed as he moved on to her other breast as her hands roamed all over him. He was strong and hard and warm and she couldn’t help but want to feel. His tongue slid up the column of her throat and she arched for him. He sighed into her neck and when she reached down between them and cupped him, rubbing him through the cotton of his jeans, he opened his mouth and bit her.

She moaned and wrapped her hand around him even more, stroking for a few seconds before her hand went to his buckle. He leaned his head against her shoulder as she pulled and tugged at the belt just as easily as he had with her bra, and then she unbuttoned him and slid down the zipper and then his black boxer briefs and jeans.

His hands went from her hips to her thighs and pulled them apart, his rough, strong hands kneading the muscles of her thighs as his thumbs traced the crease where her legs met her pelvis.

And suddenly there was much too many layers between his hands and her skin and she leaned back, and reached for the button of her own jeans before he pulled her hands away and replaced them with his own. She watched as he snapped and pulled and slid the skintight jeans down her thighs, his eyes dilating even more than they already were when he saw the wet spot that had formed on the crotch of her cotton panties.

She bit her lip as she rocked her hips for him and he growled, his hands finding her thighs again. She wanted to moan, she wanted to do anything, but she was frozen as he stared down at her, his eyes devouring every inch of her skin. She had never felt sexier than lying almost naked on some bar in the middle of god-knows-where, Georgia and then she smiled.

He caught that and his lips twitched back at her and his fingers skimmed under the elastic above her thighs, his thumbs tracing the clothing line down the her core. Daryl leaned over then and put his face in her stomach, and kissed a trail above her underwear as his fingers grabbed at them and pulled. She gasped as her ass hit the cold counter but it only sent a cool shudder through her.

Daryl kissed his way from her stomach down her hip, to her inner thigh and he didn’t even have to try to pry open her legs as he placed his hands on her knees. He nuzzled the inside of her thigh and she could see that he was looking at her. She was hot, and so, so wet. He lifted a finger and slid traced the length of her, sending shock through her. She sucked air hard through her teeth, creating a soft hissing as she rocked her hips to chase after his touch. He had a smug smile on his face as he parted her with his fingers and she wanted to punch him, but mainly she wanted him to keep fucking going.

Daryl glanced up at her, met her eyes, and traced the same line that he had with his fingers with his tongue and he had barely gotten anywhere when she let her head fall back and her eyes flutter closed. He lapped at her, sending red-hot waves through every part of her body, shock after shock from her belly to her core and she trembled beneath him.

She breathed his name and raked her hand through his long hair as his soft, easy tongue turned rough and fast and then she was crashing- her body rocking to its own according and his mouth didn’t leave her through it. Her chest heaved as she laughed and pulled at his hair, forcing him to come back to her because, holy shit, that just… _felt_.

And when he met her face she grabbed him on either side and pulled him in, her mouth clashing with his, teeth clanking and tongues colliding, and tasting herself mixed with him. Forget the moonshine- this was intoxicating all on its own.

She finally let him go when her lungs began to burn for air but he still lay on top of her, their bodies pressed strongly together and his dick trapped hard between them. She rocked again, and his head dropped to her chest, “Fucks sake, Beth.”

She smiled and pushed at him, and when he stood up, she reached down and softly took him in her hands, lightly stroking him as she lay there. He moaned and shook his head, at her and she bit her lip, “I want to feel you inside of me.”

His eyes hooded at that and his head fell forward for a second, as if, once again, he had to gather himself. His arms bulged at his sides, the tattoo that had started this whole thing morphed and shaped. He took in a deep breath and said, “Condom.”

She nodded and let him go and he bent down, grabbed his wallet and got a tin foil packet out before tossing it with the rest of the clothes. He ripped the packet with his teeth quickly and began to roll the condom on when she took over, meeting his eyes as she slid it on for him. His hand threaded through her hair, just watching her, and the way his eyes melted against her skin made her tremble all on their own. When she had finally gotten it on (after what felt like ages), she leaned back and waited for him. He slid his hands down from her hips to her knees, spreading her open and sidling in close to her.

And he was so warm, she just wanted to curl around him and into him and when he was between her legs she was sure that if there was such thing as okay, it was then. Daryl’s eyes slid over her and then he grasped himself in one hand and traced the length of her with the head of his dick, and it felt so good her eyes fluttered closed and she had to bite back a moan.

His other hand found hers and she twined their fingers together as he pushed into her. He bottomed out and waited for a second, adjusting to each other’s warmth and his jaw clenched. She squeezed his fingers and after a second he began to rock into her, their rhythm was first unsteady but then, adjusted.

And it was like every time he pushed back into her it was a wave crashing against her, and it felt so good. Her body circled to meet his at every chance and at first he was slow and then thing began to speed up and his hand moved from hers to her center, “I need…” He choked, “Let me…”

She nodded, her hand moved to his wrist because she just needed to touch him. And even though he was inside of her she wanted to feel him even more and that feeling alone both frightened her and made her want to scream with joy because she felt it. And this man, this man is making her feel and just…

She nodded and his thumb moved against the bundle of nerves at the junction of her thighs, and the shocks turned into jolts, each movement- big or small- she felt on a new level. And he went faster and the coil wound tighter and tighter in her belly and she felt herself tense up before her body began to spasm around them, her knees around his hips as she cried his name, “Oh my god… _Daryl_ … Oh fuck.”

She breathed out and as the last few shudders crossed her spine his movements became jerky and hard and then his head fell forward, and he moaned out her name his hands moving and curling into her hips bones, hard enough to leaving bruises.

At least she had _hoped_ there would be bruises.

She had hoped there would be a fucking tattoo left behind. His chest heaved as he leaned against the counter. She leaned up, him still inside her and pressed her body against his, because he was still a furnace and his warmth was still something she craved enough though she wasn’t even done yet.

Daryl’s hand moved around to her back and he pulled her against him for a second, his face in her neck. She felt him leave a feather light kiss on the column of her throat before he pulled away and peeled the condom off, tying it and throwing it in the wastebasket.

Beth sat on the cold, foreign bar counter, with her jeans around one ankle and nothing much else beside that, she bra flung over on the sink and her shirt… Well, she didn’t see that yet. But she felt so good. So _free_.

She felt herself smile as he ran a hand through his hair muttering a ‘ _Jesus fucking Christ_ ’ under his breath and then pulled at his boxer briefs and pants, giving a swift tug and pull of the belt and he was fully put together.

He walked over to her and slid his hands to her waist and pulled her off of the counter, helping her put her jeans back on and tossing her bra to her before searching for her t shirt. When he finally found it (on the other side of the bar, next to the pool table), he brought it over and flung it out for her. She tossed on her shirt and he helped straighten it out, his hands resting on the cool skin of her waist.

She ran her hands up his chest and took in a deep breath, then reached to brush the hair out of his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched at her, “This was a weird fuckin’ night.”

Beth laughed at that and shook her head, because hell yeah, tonight was a weird night, but… “I liked it. A lot.”

A beat, “Me too.”

She looked down and smiled at that because it was like a game. And really, she hadn’t known him well enough to have a game with him. Didn’t know him well enough to have sex with him, behind a bar, in a bar she didn’t even know had a name, and didn’t even know where it was located, but…

But, he made her feel something. And she hadn’t felt anything in months. She glanced over at the clock and the red numbers informed her it was 4 in the morning and she had to get home. Because she had a home.

Maybe it took a man with a tattoo in a bar she’d never been to, to make her realize that but she did and she needed to get back to that. Beth traced the length of his jaw and then rubbed her thumb along his bottom lip, “I think you were supposed to close a while ago.”

He glanced at the clock, and then he remembered where he was. He blinked at the clock for another second then nodded once, his hands dropping from her waist, away from her skin.

Beth swallowed and gave him a wry smile, “Thanks for the moonshine.” He ducked his head and then she backed away, taking a few steps towards the other side of the bar, “I would say I’m sorry I intruded,” She smiled, “But I’m not.”

He glanced up, his own smile on his lips and he nodded, “Me too.”

She laughed and then sighed, “I’ll see you around, Bartender.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and she turned around, a hesitant, almost sad smile on her lips as she walked towards the door until called after her, “Beth.”

She turned instantly, “Yeah?" 

He turned to the side and grabbed a clear, small bottle with an orange label on it and walked over to her. He pressed the small, half empty bottle of Peach Schnapps in her hand and shrugged, “No one drinks it anyways.”

She looked down at the bottle in her hand and smiled. So maybe it wasn’t a tattoo, but it was the next best thing. She squeezed the bottle in her hand and looked up at him one more time, “Thank you." 

And she meant it for a lot more than just a bottle of Peach Schnapps. And she knew that he understood, even if he had no idea what he did for her… he did. She smiled up at him one more time and turned around and pushed through the door of the bar.

When she turned out of the small gravel parking lot she smiled- really smiled for the first time in a long time and it felt good and it was all thanks to peach schnapps, a tattoo, and a bartender named Daryl.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for any comments, kudos, and subscriptions in advance! Please come stop by at CaptainPassion on Tumblr!   
> yayyyy bethyl smut weeeeeek!


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